Chapter Text
Shadow’s apartment was seeped in gold, slants of light cutting through the darkness, casting shapes upon aging floorboards, dust curling in lazy swirls.
Shadow drifted toward the living room, eyes heavy with exhaustion and something unnamed. Every step like lead, a quiet reminder of the humiliating predicament he found himself entertaining.
The famed musician, a legend of art and sound, 'The Obsidian Wanderer', trading orchestra halls for community centers. Applause for silverware clatter. Appreciation for set dressing.
The thought made Shadow wince, every fiber of his being repulsed by something so humiliatingly...pedestrian.
And yet, here he was, taking any gig that would pay him, whoring himself out for pocket change.
But bills were bills, and the last thing he needed was to borrow money from that insufferable bat.
Not again. Not after last time.
"Shadow! You need to go out more."
"Shadow! You've got circles under your eyes"
"Shadow...Shadow...Shadow..."
But it wasn't as if she was off-base. Somewhere deep in Shadow's heart, he knew that beneath all the poking and prodding, Rouge was worried.
They all were.
And maybe, that made it all too real to handle.
With a heavy exhale, Shadow rolled his shoulders, tiny pops echoing off barren walls of plaster and stone.
His eyes drifted toward a leather sectional, lined with an assortment of ties, jumbled in a messy heap. Hesitantly, he reached out, making sense of a web of silk and cotton.
It wasn't much, but maybe that's all he needed: To just keep moving.
_________________________
Earlier that same morning, Sonic had beat the sun awake as per usual, and he flopped out of bed in a gloriously dramatic fashion. He trailed a blanket behind him, sinking perfectly around his hips as he trudged his way to the bathroom.
He'd worked hard to get as far as he had, playing community gigs and at local open mic nights and churches. Of course, Sonic had a band with Tails and Knuckles that had dropped an album months ago semi-successfully. They all enjoyed playing and arranging their own rock music and covers, and their slowly growing popularity had gotten them asks for weddings, parties, halftime shows, and everything in between.
Dull green eyes blinked over and over until they brightened in the mirror. It took a few effortful tries to get a convincingly real smile across his face.
With a practiced motion, a couple of bags were pulled out from a cabinet and makeup was arranged on the counter. Gold glitter, quill accessories, black eyeliner, sometimes body paint, sometimes lipstick.
He was pretty sure the blue glitter was somewhere in an instrument case with his favorite pair of sunglasses. It didn’t matter.
Honestly, Sonic, who are you without the makeup, even... look at those bags under your eyes. Pretty sure those just got reported missing at an airport. Pull yourself together.
He laughed at himself a little nervously before letting the comfort of his blanket fall down his body and to the floor with a soft thud as he concealed the exhaustion in his face.
While he applied makeup with practiced, steady hands, music drifted in and out through his speaker, playing sensual jazz and instrumental choruses that made his brain just... grasp on and not let go.
Okay, gold eyeliner, some stars...what colors did the couple say their wedding was? Right right... dark red and light blue... okay… you always think it’s fun to coordinate…
Sonic had transformed himself into something slightly ethereal and slightly untouchable in half an hour. He was excited for the gig, sure, but it didn't erase his sheer tiredness.
Deciding he had some hours to spare, and looking at his closet looming with the threat of clothing, the blue hedgehog looked back down at the bathroom tile. He bent over and grabbed the large, fuzzy blanket, wrapping it around himself. Clothes were stupid and they were going on one minute before he left his home and not a second earlier.
Sonic then trudged to the couch and lazily snuggled back into the blanket, still careful of the makeup.
On the other hand, it didn’t take long for Shadow to get ready. He thumbed through his closet, pulling out the usual: a black suit, white button up, and dark trousers.
Preparing for a gig had become a routinely meditative trance of ironing, folding, and lint rolling.
He had to look sharp: professional - something that felt a little silly - gigs involved disassociation and empty smiles.
All he had to do was get there, sit down, and disappear. If he could just make it to the chapel, he could lose himself in the only thing that still brought joy.
He could hear the notes before he played them. The soft rise and fall of "Clair de Lune", or "Air On The G String." The delicate dance of tension and release, love and loss, happiness and heartache.
He was sure it didn't matter to the bridal party or patrons, but to Shadow, the opportunity to express all his sorrow, to hit a few keys and drift away...
He wouldn't trade that for the world.
With a steadying breath, he moved toward the door, gathering his keys and folder of sheet music. The door creaked open, a whine of protest radiating off its rusty hinges. Shadow hesitated, eyes narrowing as he turned toward the apartment at his back.
Minimal furniture accented the space, blacks and whites giving the room an artistic flair. And yet, something in his stomach dropped. For the first time, in a long time, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he needed someone to share it with.
He shook his head side to side, as if trying to deny and brush the thought off all at once. The dark hedgehog exhaled sharply before moving toward the door to the parking lot at the apartment building.
As he mounted his bike with a leather satchel of music, he was hit on the head with a dull thunk…thunk
thunk
Shadow blinked, gloved claws squeezing down on the clutch. He placed a boot on the pavement, retracting the shield that covered his face.
thunk
Another drop, clunking against the top of his helmet. His lips pursed, frown deepening.
"...wonderful" Shadow murmured to no one, glancing down at his fancy suit - the one he'd special ordered, a relic of days when he had endless capital and nowhere to go but up.
There was no rain in the forecast today, but to the universe, that didn't matter, an uncaring mistress, set on destruction and wrath.
By the time he got to the tiny venue, the rain was falling in heavy sheets. Gusts of wind came from behind, scattering his quills into a messy frenzy. He was able to make it to the chapel fairly unscathed.
The ceremony consisted of classical pieces, a saccharine-rich spectacle of plastic and candles.
But despite this, the reception would prove to be much more exciting.
At least, he hoped.
The couple requested that he play a myriad of different pieces: An entrance song, a first dance, and a mix of his own work, interwoven between covers performed by a tiny band he’d never heard of. At least he’d get to play some hits of his own.
And maybe, that was enough to keep it interesting.
______________________________________
Finally the reception drew close enough for Sonic to decide to un-nest himself and assemble something that looked like an outfit. He’d confirmed that Tails and Knuckles were already doing sound tech work at the venue, but Sonic was the one who brought most of the instruments and charts.
His call time was a little later, and though the blue hedgehog would never admit it, he was grateful for the extra bits of time he was granted to breathe at home.
Finally, Sonic tugged open the closet door with a half-hearted yawn, scanning the rows of outfits that looked like a kaleidoscope of every version of himself he had ever tried on. Sequins, denim, leather, and silk all came together as pieces of a stage life that glittered in the dark but felt oddly heavy under his fingertips.
Dark red... yeah, that’ll work. Guess it’s time to say goodbye to my blanket, huh…
With a sigh, Sonic let the blanket collapse into a pile around his feet as he shivered at the cool air on his body. He pulled down a neatly pressed jumpsuit, a satin shine catching the light, the shade matching the wedding’s theme. The fabric slid sleek against his fur as he stepped into it, tugging the zipper up in one clean motion as it hugged his waist. The color made his eyes stand out brighter green, almost glowing in the mirror’s reflection.
Sonic tilted his head, testing the angles of his own smirk, before leaning closer to check the edges of his eyeliner. Gold dust shimmered faintly on his quills where he’d brushed it earlier.
Okay... stars still sharp, eyeliner not smudged... lips aren’t cracked. Good enough to make a couple cry about their eternal love, right?
He chuckled under his breath.
The blanket puddled at his feet as he crouched and gathered the essentials. His guitar case slid across his back with a familiar weight, the mic stand tucked under one arm, and a trumpet in its own worn leather case dangling from his free hand. The whole ensemble clinked and shifted as he moved, like he was piecing together a version of himself from all the fragments.
Guitar for the first dance, mic for speeches, brass for filler, voice for the magic. Always juggling… Showman, babysitter, dreamer, distraction, whatever they need tonight. Just gotta keep up the act long enough.
He straightened, balancing everything against his frame before striding to the door. The thought of Tails and Knuckles already at the reception venue sparked a flicker of warmth in his chest.
At least I’m not doing this alone…
They’d be setting up amps, running cables, maybe arguing about tempo or who forgot the extension cord this time, but it was always Knuckles. Sonic just kept spares in his car at this point.
It was comforting chaos, a rhythm Sonic trusted more than his own heartbeat. Sonic grabbed an umbrella for the rain and a hat in case it wasn’t enough and an extra bag of makeup for his backpack before heading out to meet his friends at the reception venue.
The venue itself wasn’t far. It had white drapes and floral arches and polished parquet waiting for dancing feet. Sonic could already picture it: the classical musicians tuning in one corner, reserved and quiet, while he and his crew worked the reception space into something alive. Two worlds running side by side.
Ceremony and chaos.
With a flick of his quills and a practiced wink at his own reflection, Sonic pulled the door shut behind him, the weight of instruments and expectation strapped across his shoulders. The jumpsuit gleamed against the morning light as he walked, each step steady and carrying him toward the day’s performance.
Arriving at the reception venue, Sonic nudged the door open with his shoulder, balancing the stack of instruments like he was one more wobble away from toppling the whole display.
“Hey your majesty, took you long enough,” Knuckles called, already crouched over an amp with a bundle of cables. His red fur caught the glow of the overhead chandeliers, making him look almost regal, though the way he was growling at a stubborn plug ruined the effect.
Tails popped up from behind a speaker, goggles perched on his head and a grin plastered across his face. “You look fancy,” he teased, gesturing at the jumpsuit. “What, planning to steal the show from the bride?”
Sonic rolled his eyes but set his cases down with relief, the thunk echoing across the parquet. “Relax, it’s called being on theme. You two should try it sometime instead of looking like you wandered in off the street.”
Knuckles snorted, standing to flex his hands. “At least we don’t look like we’re auditioning for a glitter commercial.”
Tails, who was also in glitter, albeit less than Sonic, rolled his eyes at the echidna.
“Yeah, well, glitter sells.” Sonic winked, already unzipping the guitar case. His fingers brushed the polished wood of the instrument, and just touching it eased some of the tension strung across his shoulders. The brass instruments would be easier, so those always came last.
Tails hopped over, quick as ever, peering at Sonic’s face. “Dude, you’re wound tighter than a violin string. Loosen up a little before you snap. Weddings are supposed to be fun.”
“They’re supposed to be work,” Sonic muttered, plucking a few test chords, the notes scattering warm and sharp into the empty room.
Work means control. Control means no surprises.
Knuckles leaned against the nearest speaker, arms crossed and grins spreading. “Or… you could actually enjoy yourself for once. Have some champagne later, maybe talk to someone. There’s bound to be someone who thinks the lead in the jumpsuit is hot.”
Sonic nearly choked on his own breath. “I’m here to play, not flirt.”
“Uh-huh.” Tails smirked, already flipping through his tablet to double-check setlists and cue sheets.
“That’s what you always say. Then you spend the whole night fussing like a storm cloud while Knuckles and I do all the social heavy lifting.”
Sonic strummed a chord harder than intended, the sound slicing through the hall. “I don’t fuss.”
Both of them shot him matching looks of disbelief.
“Okay, maybe I fuss,” Sonic admitted with a sigh, quills twitching. “But that’s just my… vibe.”
More like you need a vibe and to go home and sleep, idiot, Sonic snickered demeaningly to himself.
Knuckles chuckled, pushing off the speaker to clap him on the back. “Your vibe is so tense that if someone hugged you, you’d squeak. Champagne’ll fix that.”
“Or meeting someone,” Tails added, voice sing-song and teasing. “C’mon, Sonic. You’ve got the look, the music, the mystery. You never know who you’ll run into.”
Sonic rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt, but his chest tightened in a way he didn’t like to admit.
Meet someone, huh? Sure. As if anyone’s looking for a hedgehog who survives on energy drinks and glitter.